


tell me we'll never get used to it

by nanodarlings (incendiarism)



Series: i promise you, i was here [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Best Friends, Campfires, Fluff, Growing Up, Heart-to-Heart, Lee Jeno-centric, M/M, Na Jaemin is a Good Friend, jeno is having a minor crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:35:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23790178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incendiarism/pseuds/nanodarlings
Summary: And he thinks it’s all worth it; it’s all worth it when he gets to be pressed so close to Jaemin like this, when he ends up in moments like these—the universe collapsing in on itself until it’s justJaemin, nothing more and nothing less.
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin
Series: i promise you, i was here [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1724401
Comments: 18
Kudos: 68
Collections: nono birthday bash





	tell me we'll never get used to it

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elisu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisu/gifts).



> For the lovely Qianyi:
> 
> Thank you so much for letting me work with your prompts and create this piece! It's mostly based on your third prompt, _campfire_ , but I kinda snuck in mentions of _sneaking out of school to go somewhere beautiful_ and _the bottom of the swimming pool_ as well. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Title is from "Scheherazade" by Richard Siken. Series title is from "Not Even This" by Ocean Vuong. Happy birthday Jeno!

Everything is so nice, it's almost surreal.

With the melodic drone of the cackling fire in the background, the faint glow that the flames paint everything in, and the cheerful buzz of everyone’s voices filling the air, the scene looks like it could all be out of some storybook, some Animal Crossing-esque type of coziness.

Tucked into a quiet corner of the woods, a myriad of stars smattered across the dark sky, Jeno feels almost achingly full—as if some of the burn from the campfire was bleeding into his own bones, as if his heart was so swollen that any moment now it could knock right past his ribcage and spill out onto the pine-needled ground.

It’s a fragile feeling, the kind that’s always a beat or two from floating far, far away.

Something that’s a bit like chasing after fireflies in the summer. Where even if you get your hands around one, you have to let it go sooner or later—no matter how much you want to keep it forever, no matter how much you hope for the moment to last, no matter how much you wish to keep staring at its tiny flickering lights. That sort of hopeless ephemeralness, the absolute impermanence of it all. 

But Jeno’s trying to make the most of whatever time he has, so he bottles everything up in a little jar, cute and quaint, and he watches. And he waits.

A sigh escapes his mouth as he shuffles even closer to where he’s cozied up next to Jaemin on the log that they’re sitting together on. If he’s being honest, it’s not the most comfortable place in the world—oddly lumpy and a bit of a tight squeeze to get two people to share—but it’s warm. It’s warm and Jaemin’s some sort of stable, comforting presence—like his favorite oversized hoodie fresh out of the dryer—and Jeno honest to god wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his life here.

Renjun’s off to the side with Jisung discussing constellations and aliens and all of those grand notions, their knees knocking together and eyes bright with the thought of there being something _more_ out there. Mark has his guitar pulled out to accompany Donghyuck and Chenle singing campfire songs. And Jeno’s chest squeezes again in that odd, bittersweet sort of feeling, compresses in that stupidly sentimental sort of feeling, and—

“Hey,” Jaemin prods softly, breaking his trance. “Whatcha thinking about?” he says as his arm snakes around Jeno’s waist to rest lightly at his hip.

Jeno hums a bit, mulls over his answer before speaking. “Mm, I dunno. Everything? I guess?”

“Everything?—” Jaemin laughs, and they’re positioned so close together that Jeno can feel him shake ever so slightly— “ _Everything_ sure is a lot to think about, Jen.”

Jeno snorts in return and elbows Jaemin lightly. “Not literally, idiot. Just, like, realizing how fast things are gonna change? How fast things are changing now?”

He pauses, scrunches his nose a little at the thought. “I mean, Renjun’s going back to China once he graduates, and Mark’s had his sights set on Canada since freshman year.” Another pause as he considers. “Hyuckie’s already bent on some music conservatory, and you’re not far behind him with art school.”

And then the million-dollar question, the one everyone holds their breath for:

_So where does that leave me?_

Thing is, that’s not a pretty thing to ask. Rough and ugly around the edges, in dire need of touching up. Nothing like what Renjun and Jisung discuss—their curiosity sparks awe, sparks some sort of pure wonder at all that the night sky might hold. No, Jeno feels more like an essay with all the periods and commas switched out for question marks, all statements dropping off in an awkward _huh?_ or _maybe?_ with extra emphasis on the uncertainty.

But Jaemin’s still looking at him, waiting for him to go on, so he continues— “And I’m, well. I’m me.”

Jaemin cocks his head slightly to the side. “And you’re you?”

“I’m me. I’m still gonna be here, nowhere special to go, while everyone else is miles away. There’s…not much else I can do, what with my family and all. And that shit’s like, _scary_ , you know?”

And saying it outloud makes him feel like curling into himself, tiny and awfully inconsequential. Because Jeno really and truly just feels stuck. Feels so much desperation for something more, so much pent up wanderlust rearing its ugly head.

It’s fight or flight—except there is no fight, only a voice on loop screaming at him to _get out, get out, get out—_

Jaemin sits up from where he was leaning into Jeno and takes his hands gently from where they’ve balled into tight fists, nails digging mini-crescents into skin. He gives them a quick squeeze, reassuring and soft, and then starts tracing nonsense words into his palm as he says, “Do you remember when we snuck out of school to go see the cherry blossoms?”

Jeno breathes, deep and grounding. In and out. He can do this. This is Jaemin. This is the boy he’s been head-over-heels with for years; this is the boy he’s been best friends with for even longer. _He can do this._

“What, you mean the time _you_ were feeling restless and dragged me along to see them with you? Sure, I remember. Your mom kicked both of our asses when she found out,” Jeno says, face forming a tiny wince at that particular memory.

“Hey, I seem to remember you having fun! Admit it, it was worth it.”

And Jeno, stubborn as he is, grumbles a bit more. But the memories of the day flood his head like one of Jaemin’s cheesy end-of-the-year highlight reels, shots of the blooming breaths of pink and the glossy reflection of the branches in the water and _Jaemin_ grabbing his hand and pulling him ahead rolling across his eyes as easy as film, and Jeno finds himself smiling.

“Yeah, fine. It was worth it.”

Jaemin grins back at him, all pearly white teeth and unadulterated happiness, childlike joy in human form, and Jeno’s breath catches a little at the sight—words stuck on the tip of the iceberg, snagged on the edge of _feelings_ , raw and vaguely repressed. Which, _nope_ , one confession of an ever-looming crisis is enough of a rabbithole to fall down for today, so he tamps it down and instead tries, “Why do you bring it up though?”

“Hmm? Oh, right! Was gonna say that maybe you’re just on your way to another cherry blossom festival again. And things might _suck_ , but they’ll get better?” Jaemin says, seemingly in thought.

Jeno rolls his eyes in response and whacks at Jaemin’s knee. “You’re full of shit,” he scoffs, but he can’t hide the note of amusement and maybe just a tiny bit of fondness that coats his voice.

Jaemin stares at him for a bit before making this sound that’s somewhere between a snicker and a cackle. “Okay, okay, you’ve got me. Pretty sure I was going somewhere deep and profound at first, but lost that train of thought halfway through after you so rudely reminded me of my overbearing mother.” He stops, collecting himself, and then adds on— “But my point still stands! You’re Lee Jeno. And you’ve got all of us; you’ve got me. Yeah?”

“Hah. Yeah.”

And god, as ridiculous as it is, Jeno does somehow feel better at Jaemin’s antics. Call it the red-tinted glasses, call it the Na Jaemin Effect, call it Jeno being completely and utterly fucked from the moment the two of them met—call it whatever you want, but it works.

Jeno still has no idea what he’s gonna do in the future, still knows that the fireflies are gonna have to come out of the jar at some point. There’s a billion unknown variables to consider, and math has never been his strong suit.

And that’s the thing, right? These sorts of things never evaluate to be clean integers. They end up as long decimals that you have to round off or strangely lopsided irrationals or even imaginary numbers that aren’t even real. They end up weird and complicated and easily tangled, and they’ve caused him more than one sleepless night.

But damn it all. Jeno’s out in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but sky up above and Jaemin in front of him—painted in all sorts of brilliant golds and ambers from the fire. The soundscape is carved by the voices of his best friends and backed by the soft accompaniment of the flickering flames and wildlife. It’s photo-ready, picture perfect. Some sort of paramount vision of youth.

And Jeno feels so, so alive. And Jeno feels so, _so_ in love. 

Maybe it’s reckless, maybe it’s naive. Maybe he’s a fool for buying into fairy-tale happy endings.

But Jeno falls in love like a boy holding his breath before diving into the deep end. Jeno falls in love at the bottom of the pool, where everything turns melodic when muffled by the water and everything is clear and chlorine blue. Jeno falls in love like he’s drowning.

And he thinks it’s all worth it; it’s all worth it when he gets to be pressed so close to Jaemin like this, when he ends up in moments like these—the universe collapsing in on itself until it’s just _Jaemin_ , nothing more and nothing less.

It’s all worth it when Jaemin cups his face in his hands ever so gently and tells him— “Jen. Jen, sweetheart, look at me. You’ll be okay, yeah? We’ll be okay.”

And Jeno believes him. Jeno believes him like he's a diver clutching an oxygen tank, like he’s clinging to a lifeline. And Jeno takes the plunge.

And it’ll be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! yes it's ash! as always, any and all comments are much appreciated!
> 
> twt: [@nanodarlings](https://twitter.com/nanodarlings)  
> cc: [aphelions](https://curiouscat.me/aphelions)  
> 
> 
> [inspiration](https://hereinevitably.dreamwidth.org/5123.html)  
> 


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